Chapter Text
YOUR ROOMMATE IS A VAMPIRE.
You discover this exactly two minutes after arriving at your allocated dormitory. Not because she tells you, not because someone warns you, but simply because she smiles. You realise it the instant you see her grin — two sharp fangs catching the afternoon light, glinting the unmistakable sheen of polished ivory.
Well.
That certainly complicates things.
“Hi!” she squeals, delight written into every inch of her expression. Her yellow eyes are sharp, alight, sort of reminding you of a cat, a very excited one in the least. But she’s not a cat, you know — she’s far from one. “You must be my new roommate!”
You halt at the threshold between the corridor and your new room. One hand grips the handle of your luggage. The other rests instinctively against the worn leather cover of your spellbook, thumb tracing the pressed lavender tucked within its pages — a habit more than a spell. Your grandmother always said lavender soothed restless spirits. She never mentioned anything about vampires, though.
Behind your new roommate stretches the prettiest bedroom you have ever seen. Two four-poster beds sit opposite one another beneath tall arched windows, their curtains tied back with dark green ribbons. Ivy has claimed half the stone walls outside, creeping lazily through the open window as though the Academy permits its plants to come and go as they please. Shelves overflow with books and trinkets, dried herbs hang from the ceiling beams, and a charmed teapot quietly pours itself another cup of tea. It looks less like student accommodation and more like something from the fairy tales your mother used to read to you during winter storms.
If not for the vampire.
“I’m [Name].” You offer your best smile instead. “It’s nice to meet you.”
There are two kinds of stories told in your village. The first are the sort meant to entertain children. Dragons. Lost princesses. Talking foxes. The second, however, are told only after the lamps have been extinguished. Those stories have no happy endings. They speak of creatures with beautiful faces and impossible lifespans. Of forests where people vanish. Of bargains accepted too quickly. Of monsters who smile lovingly before they bite.
Your parents never forbade you from interacting with other species. They simply taught you to respect the distance between you. The message had always been clear.
Spellcasters survive because we know our limits. Never mistake curiosity for safety.
“I’m Himiko!” your roommate gushes, clasping both her hands together beneath her chin. “You’re so pretty, [Name]. I’m so happy that I got to room with you!”
You blink. That… wasn’t the response you had prepared for.
“Thank you,” you reply, after a moment. The compliment leaves you feeling unexpectedly warm. “I… think you’re really pretty too.”
And she is. Of course she is. Honey-blonde hair gathered in two messy twin buns, straight bangs sweeping across her forehead. Delicate, feminine features, and pale skin set with a rosy blush. You had been told vampires looked ghostly. Bloodless. Hollow-cheeked. Instead, Himiko looks vividly alive, possibly even more so than you.
The girl gasps in elation, the hue spreading across her cheeks deepening.
“You’re so cute, [Name]!”
Before you can react, she closes the distance between you in three quick steps. Fast, too fast. Your grip on your spellbook tightens. Not enough to cast, but enough to remind yourself that it’s there.
Himiko notices. You can tell she does. Curiously though, she doesn't seem offended.
“You’re human,” she says suddenly. There’s something different in her voice now.
“…Yes.”
Himiko barely pauses after your confirmation, as if she had only expected you to agree after all. Her smile grows, bright and sweet and teeth on full display.
“Can I drink your blood?”
You freeze. All thoughts you had previously entertained about her friendliness instantly vanish out of the window.
On the bright side… at least she asked.
”No,” you say firmly.
Himiko doesn’t relent. She leans a little closer, eyes shining. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, so loud you wonder if she can hear it too.
“Please?”
“No,” you repeat again, tone steadier than how you feel inside. “Absolutely not.”
You take a step back. This time, Himiko seems to get the hint.
Disappointment flashes across her features.
“Awh,” she pouts. “That’s a shame.”
Her expression turns almost dreamy.
”Human blood always smells the sweetest,” she whispers.
You make a mental note to investigate whether the Academy allows students to request room changes. Preferably today. Preferably immediately.
Himiko’s smile returns as quickly as it had vanished. Her fangs gleam pearly white.
“It’s okay,” she says sweetly. “I’ll wait till you let me.”
That’s somehow even worse.
Your eyes flicker back to the hallway. The corridor bustles with unfamiliar students — horns, wings, tails, claws, silver eyes — each disappearing toward lives they've probably spent years preparing for.
Two months ago, if someone had told you your first conversation at the most prestigious supernatural academy in the kingdom would involve politely declining to be eaten, you would’ve laughed. Two months ago, your biggest concern had been convincing your parents to let you open a mysterious letter addressed to you in silver wax. They had begged you to burn it. You’d opened it anyway.
Looking back, perhaps they had a point.
”Come in!” Himiko beams cheerily. “I’ll help you unpack your things!”
She takes you by the wrist, and instinctively, you stiffen. Her hands are cold. Not unpleasantly so, just… undeniably inhuman. She drags you inside the bedroom before you can protest any further.
You take a slow breath. Your grandmother also used to say that courage wasn’t the absence of fear. It was deciding that something else mattered more. And right now, that “something” is surviving your first day without accidentally offending your vampire roommate.
A reasonable goal.
You chose this, after all. All that’s left it to prove that you’ve earned it.
Your roommate is a vampire.
And somehow, that’s only the beginning of everything.
✶⋆.♱˚
The first bell rings while Himiko is trying to decide which shelf your spellbooks should occupy.
It isn’t loud — it doesn’t need to be. Instead, the sound rolls gently through the stone walls, like water poured into an empty cathedral, low yet impossibly clear.
Himiko halts.
She turns to you, yellow eyes bright. “It’s starting!”
A second bell sounds. Himiko abandons the half-unpacked box she was attending to in the middle of the room without another thought.
“We’re leaving?” you ask, confused.
“I don’t think we get a choice,” she replies, already shrugging into her academy cloak. Overhead, the third bell echoes. “Orientation waits for everyone.”
By the fifth bell, the corridors have filled. Students pour from every dormitory, all moving with the same quiet certainty, as though they have followed these bells a hundred times before. No one runs. No one shouts. The Academy seems to swallow sound.
You fall naturally into step beside Himiko.
“Everyone knows where they’re going,” you note.
“They do,” she hums.
“And nobody thought to tell the first-years?”
She grins foxily.
“They like watching us figure it out.”
Outside, the UA Academy for the Paranormal and Arcane stretches far beyond what you had imagined from your dormitory window. Stone bridges arc between towers suspended over impossibly deep ravines. Glass conservatories glow beneath climbing roses. Ancient oak trees rise through courtyards so old that the buildings appear to have grown around them instead of the other way around. Somewhere high above, enormous creatures circle lazily through the evening sky. Not dragons, but something stranger. Their wings shimmer like broken glass whenever they cross the setting sun.
You stop walking to gaze up at them.
“They’re beautiful,” you note.
Himiko follows your gaze.
“Oh. Them?” She waves dismissively. “They’re just the librarians.”
You look at her. She looks perfectly serious.
You decide not to ask.
The path slopes gently downward toward the heart of the Academy. The deeper you walk, the more students join the steady procession. Some things are familiar. Others, very much aren’t. A boy with elegant antlers ducks beneath an archway to avoid scraping the stone ceiling. Two girls with translucent wings hover a few inches above the cobblestones instead of walking. A silver-haired student pauses beside a fountain to drink — but not from the water itself, from the reflection of it. Nobody else appears to find this unusual.
You catch yourself staring. Then quickly pretend you weren’t. Your grandmother would have reproached you for such poor manners.
“Don’t stare,” she would always remind you. “Every creature notices when it’s being watched.”
You wonder if monsters were given similar advice about humans.
They probably weren’t.
You feel eyes on you long before you find them. Not hostile or anything of that sort, but simply… curious. A pair of werewolf ears twitch as you pass. A fae openly whispers something to their friend while pointing in your direction.
You are beginning to suspect news travels remarkably quickly here. Or perhaps, humans simply stand out more than you’d expected.
The inside of the Academy reveals itself gradually as you descend. Lecture halls tucked inside ancient cloisters, courtyards overflowing with magical herbs, covered walkways lined with enchanted portraits that politely incline their heads as students pass. One portrait winks at Himiko. She winks back.
Apparently, this is normal.
By the time the thirteenth and final bell rings, you’ve reached the Grand Hall. But calling it a hall feels almost insulting. It’s more of a cathedral, perhaps. Or a palace.
The entrance doors rise nearly four storeys high, carved from black wood threaded with veins of silver that pulse faintly beneath the surface like moonlight trapped beneath ice. Hundreds of first-years gather outside. From what you can glimpse of the inner hall, the upper-years stand along the edges, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Several glance toward the newcomers. Most look bored. A few look sympathetic. One or two look amused.
A professor steps onto the entrance staircase. He looks tired, impossibly tired, with dark hair and similarly dark eyes. Conversation dies down almost immediately.
“First-Year Orientation,” he deadpans. “Proceed by species.”
No further explanation follows. Apparently, none is needed.
Groups begin forming almost instinctively.
“Vampires here.”
Himiko brightens. “That’s me!”
She turns to you. “I'll see you inside soon, [Name]!”
Before you can respond, she’s swept into a cluster of pale students, disappearing between elegant black cloaks and flashes of crimson lining.
You suddenly feel smaller. More… alone.
One by one, the tired professor calls the students to enter the Grand Hall.
“Werewolves.”
A dozen students step forward together.
The moment they pass beneath the enormous doorway, the floor trembles, just enough that you can feel it through the soles of your shoes. Somewhere within the castle walls comes the distant sound of wolves howling. The upper-years don't react. Clearly, this happens every year.
“Vampires.”
The candles lining the entrance dim all at once. The air grows noticeably cooler. A hush falls over the hall beyond. Himiko disappears inside without looking back.
“Woodland Spirits.”
Fresh ivy unfurls along the stone columns. Tiny white flowers bloom between the cracks in the floor. The scent of rain-soaked earth wafts through the air.
“Fae.”
Golden motes rise from nowhere, drifting lazily overhead like fireflies. Several students laugh as tiny blossoms scatter across their shoulders.
The demonstrations continue, each one different, each magical species greeted by the Academy itself. Faintly, you begin wondering whether the stories about living castles were less fictional than you’d believed them to be.
The line grows shorter and shorter, until eventually, only you remain. The professor glances down at the parchment in his hands. Then up at you.
“Spellcaster,” he says flatly.
Silence.
“...Just me?” you ask.
“It would appear so.”
Wonderful.
You straighten your posture, adjust your grip on your spellbook, then step forward alone. You cross the threshold, into the grand hall.
And… nothing.
No shifting stone. No changing lights. No magic. You can feel all the students watching quietly, as the Academy remains perfectly, stubbornly silent.
To be honest, you hadn’t expected anything dramatic. You wouldn’t have wanted anything excessive either. And yet, you still find yourself oddly disappointed.
“Don’t worry.”
The voice comes gently from your left.
You turn. A girl slightly older than you waits beside the entrance, dressed in the same academy uniform, though she dons a badge signalling she is a second-year. Short chestnut hair frames a warm, friendly smile. Tiny green leaves and pink flowers adorn her head, shifting ever so slightly, as though stirred by a breeze only they can feel. A forest spirit, likely.
“I’m Uraraka Ochaco,” she beams. “You must be [Name]. I’m your First-Year Buddy!”
You blink. “That’s a real title?”
She gives you a closed-eyed smile. “It is.”
“What does a First-Year Buddy do?” you question.
Uraraka’s smiles softens.
“I stop first-years from accidentally getting themselves eaten before midterms.”
You stare at her.
“You’re kidding.”
“Mostly!”
Uraraka laughs at your expression. The sound is bright. Comforting. Wonderfully ordinary, in a place full of extraordinary things.
“I’ll explain everything,” she promises, turning toward the vast hall where hundreds of students are already taking their seats beneath the vaulted ceilings and floating chandeliers.
She pauses just long enough to glance back at you thoughtfully.
“Though… I wasn’t really expecting a human.”